


Succession

by manic_intent



Series: Pack Mentality [1]
Category: Chronicles of Riddick (2004)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-05
Updated: 2010-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-14 19:13:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manic_intent/pseuds/manic_intent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vaako has to earn the trust of Riddick's hounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Succession

  
**Entry tags:** |    
[chronicles of riddick](http://manic-intent.livejournal.com/tag/chronicles%20of%20riddick), [fic](http://manic-intent.livejournal.com/tag/fic)  
---|---  
  
_**[fic] Succession [1/1]**_  
**Title** : Succession [1/1]  
**Fandom** : Chronicles of Riddick  
**Rating** : PG13  
**Pairing** : Riddick/Vaako  
**A/N** : Prompt for [](http://community.livejournal.com/smallfandomfest/profile)[**smallfandomfest**](http://community.livejournal.com/smallfandomfest/) , pack

 

Chronicles of Riddick | Riddick x Vaako | Pack

 

[A/N: after claiming this prompt, I realized that someone above me had claimed pack behavior. ^^;; sorry about that, should have read through first! There were certainly other prompts around that I could have taken. 

 

Anyway, this is probably going to be in approximately the same headcanon as the ficlets I did for porn_battle:

http://asylums.insanejournal.com/porn_battle/15587.html?thread=1944291#t1944291

http://asylums.insanejournal.com/porn_battle/15587.html?thread=1944035#t1944035

http://asylums.insanejournal.com/porn_battle/15587.html?thread=1934563#t1934563

http://asylums.insanejournal.com/porn_battle/15587.html?thread=1921763#t1921763

 

There was a drastic change between Hard to Kill and the others.  This story hopefully bridges the gap, but it can stand alone, for the purposes of smallfandomfest.]

 

Succession

I

 

Vaako had intended to be (stiffly) polite upon (finally) locating the wayward Lord Marshal, but after two hours of going in circles in a dense, humid, and far too _hot_ jungle on a world with a peculiar geosymmetry that disrupted Necromonger communications technology, his patience had worn too thin, and what actually emerged was a curt, “Finished?”

 

It was dark enough in the jungle that the Lord Marshal wasn’t wearing his goggles, but as more of Vaako’s men stumbled with ilums, sweating and swearing, out of the thick underbrush and into the clearing, he pulled them down over the eyeshine.  Shirtless and perched on a casual sprawl atop the snout of a dead… lizard creature… with a head nearly twice as long as Riddick was tall, the Lord Marshal again cut an imposing, if barbaric figure.

 

On the still steaming carcass of the eight-legged, sinuous monster, the hellhound pack paused in their gorging, claws skittering on iridescent blue scales, hissing at his men, their spikes rising and coloring a deep crimson, only to fade back to gray as Riddick smirked.

 

“I see the babysitter’s here.”

 

“Only because you so require babysitting, my _lord_ ,” Vaako growled, heedless of how this would appear to the men, sweating profusely under his armor and furious.  “Have you no idea of what could already have transpired aboard the _fleet_?”

 

“Kinda sure we left your Dame sitting pretty as regent.”

 

“ _Exactly!_ ” Dame Selune Vaako was a consummate politician – which meant that years of satisfactory marriage and political alliance or not, she was still unpredictable.  Vaako wouldn’t be entirely surprised if they returned to the relay point to find the dropships mysteriously missing.

 

“All right, all right.” Riddick yawned, setting a foot on the ridge of the monster’s eye and leaping down lithely onto the soil.  What had once been a massive reptilian eye was a rent socket, bleeding in a pale green blood that sizzled in the air like acid.  The Lord Marshal was unscathed save for a gash along his flank, not deep enough to require stitches, and one of the hellhounds, the large female with a scar over her muzzle, was favoring a leg. 

 

Vaako watched sourly as the hellhounds growled, clearly sensing that they had to leave.  The small female with the squarish nose whined and padded up to Riddick’s side, but the big one-eyed male huffed in annoyance.  “This way, Lord Marshal.”

 

“Lead on.”

 

“Your hounds?”

 

“They’ll follow,” Riddick shrugged, sauntering around the troops to head unerringly in the general direction of the pickup point, the small female trotting along beside him.  “I could’a made it back myself on time.”

 

“Sure,” Vaako muttered as they began the long march back.  “Lord Marshal.”

 

Riddick grinned at him, even as eyeshine flickered briefly between the dense, pale trunks of the forest to Vaako’s right.  “Careful, Vaako.  I think your religion now deems me holy, or some shit like that.”

 

It pained Vaako to admit it, seeing as Riddick had returned from the Threshold gifted by whatever was beyond it, yet retaining all of his crude barbarism, but the Lord Marshal was right.  “Of course, Lord Marshal.” Riddick also never failed to find this amusing, and his constant sly mockery was getting trying.

 

“Relax,” Riddick drawled, ignoring the whispers from the men.  “How many of my hounds did you see back there?”

 

“Four.”

 

“And how many do I have?”

 

Vaako frowned.  Sometimes it was hard to keep track.  “Six?”

 

“So where does that leave the other two?”

 

Vaako hated it when Riddick was humoring him.  “I am not aware, sir.”

 

“Watching your Dame closely, Vaako.” Riddick jerked his chin up briefly, skyward.  “So I’ll be rather surprised if we’ve been left behind.”

 

“And how would you be so sure… how would the hellhounds on the Basilica _know_ -”

 

“They’ll know, because I’ll know,” Riddick said cryptically.  “We’re pack.”

 

II

 

“That makes sense,” Dame Selune Vaako said later, when they were in their private chambers, slinking in a tight circle with her slender arms folded behind her back.  “Naturally.  In the full sense of the word.”

 

“You are not making sense, Selune,” Vaako growled, stripping off his armor, working at buckles and clasps with practiced fingers.

 

“That explains why you were never able to make the last step into his bed-”

 

“ _Selune_.”

 

“-despite our efforts,” Selune added, unperturbed by her husband’s flush.  Certainly before the Threshold, Vaako had (if grudgingly) indicated some interest, and Riddick hadn’t been above expressing it in his usual, barbaric way, but it hadn’t moved further than inappropriate petting.  “You must be pack.”

 

“I think the day spent as regent must have scrambled your mind, my _dear_.”

 

Selune ignored the sarcasm.  “After Lord Riddick returned from the Threshold, other than the abilities, he was different, I could sense it, but I couldn’t place it until now.  In some way, he’s developed a pack mind with his pets, with himself as the alpha male.  It’s changed him.  It’s changed _them_.”

 

“When the Lord Marshal starts insisting his name is unimportant, I’ll let you know.”

 

During the first week of Riddick retrieving his pets from Crematoria, some court butterfly had ventured to ask him what their names were.  The Lord Marshal had bluntly replied _they don’t want names, that’s a human thing_.  Her startled titter had provoked a harsh, rumbling growl from the big male always curled at Riddick’s feet on the throne, and Selune had to cut her out of the vicinity and lead her away before there had been an unfortunate accident.

 

“His creatures did seem _too_ well trained.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“One patrolled.  One spent its time by my side, its head in my lap.  Purring, if you must know.” Selune smiled, looking pleased.

 

“Ready to tear open your belly had you given an order to the fleet to leave,” Vaako pointed out, unfathomably annoyed.

 

“You yet again do not understand, _husband_.  By making me regent, even for a few hours, and by installing one of the hellhounds as a clear mark of favor-”

 

“-on a whim, no doubt spurred by your looks-”

 

“There is no need to be petty, Vaako,” Selune said primly.  “Had he made a decision based on the demands of his prick no doubt _you_ would have been left on the throne in my place.  It is interesting how intuitively our Lord Marshal understands women.”

 

“Or greed.”

 

“Either way,” his Dame continued, unperturbed by the snide comments, “He has turned succession upon its head.  By trusting someone not from the warrior caste, and a _woman_ , to guard the throne in his stead, the Lord Marshal has sent out a controversial signal.  It will be most curious to see how the worm turns.”

 

“You read too much into yet another of his barbaric whimsies, Selune.”

 

“And you are in a poor mood because of the jungle, my husband,” Selune returned sharply, her temper strung finally paper-thin, her dark almond eyes narrowed.

 

Vaako sighed loudly, then again, as Selune folded her arms tightly over her breasts.  “Very well then, Selune, what do you counsel?”

 

“Do you enjoy your current position, husband?”

 

“As the First among Commanders?” Vaako hesitated, frowning.  Riddick was the strongest of them, even _before_ he had crossed the Threshold; he was brutal but just – in his own way – and he had the driving, primal charisma of a natural leader.  Perhaps it was by reason of his birth race, perhaps not, but at present, Vaako was not… displeased that he had failed to be the one to kill Zhylaw.  “It is not uncomfortable.”

 

“Can you kill Riddick?”

 

“No.” The answer was too quick, too telling, before his Dame’s keen mind: she smirked, even as he added, annoyed, “Before the Threshold, he was already difficult: I tried several times to no avail.  Now, he is stronger than Zhylaw ever was.”

 

“Why then, see to his pack.  As I will.”

 

“They are _his_ pets.”

 

“Not pets, I think,” Selune said, cryptic again.  “Not pets.”

 

III

 

Waking Riddick up was always a trying task, but today, Vaako took his time walking up to the bed, listening for the susurrus of scales and spikes and the dry snuffling sounds of the pack.  With his Dame’s counsel in mind, he cautiously took his gloves off, tucking them into his belt, opening his palms up and reaching forward, waiting.

 

There was a deep churr, a soft growl, then Vaako grit his teeth as a wet nose rubbed up over the edge of his right little finger, sniffing at his hands.  Hot animal breath drifted over his left as another hellhound did the same.  Vaako waited patiently until he counted six different investigations, then managed not to jump as something big rubbed heavily against the back of his thighs, spikes skittering over his armor plates.

 

In the dark behind him, Riddick chuckled, and Vaako fought the urge to whirl around.  “Been listening to the missus?”

 

Untangling Riddick’s slang could often be as trying as trying to get the Lord Marshal awake in time for his schedule.  “Perhaps.”

 

“She’s got good instincts.” The voice had moved to his left, drifting in the direction of the washing facility.  Vaako took this as a good sign, even as a sandpaper tongue rasped over his wrist.

 

“Is that why you trust her?”

 

“Hell no, I don’t trust her.  I don’t trust you either, so don’t take it personally,” Riddick drawled, as water splashed into the sink.  “I put her in charge yesterday because she was the best one around for the job.”

 

“There was-”

 

“Any number of others who would’a just left you and me down there on Iskariot-7 to rot.”

 

“I’m surprised _she_ didn’t.”

 

“She knew she wouldn’t have lasted long if she did.  Even if the hounds weren’t there to watch her.  You don’t give her credit.” From the sounds of it, Riddick was washing up.  “She knows how your society works, and it ain’t so kind to women like her.  Now she’s known what it’s like to have real power without having to stand behind some guy with her hand on his dick.  Must have been good.”

 

 _How intuitively the Lord Marshal understands women_.  “You sound like you pity her.”

 

“I don’t think that there’s anything to pity there.” Riddick said, now closer, and Vaako growled as he felt a playful pat over his rump that lingered.  “She’s got you, doesn’t she?”

 

Vaako snapped his hand back, grabbing Riddick’s wrist and jerking away.  His retort died quickly on his lips.  “Lord Marshal… you’re _warm_.”

 

“Yeah? And?”

 

“But you entered the _Threshold_.  I saw you.”

 

“Could be I’m not getting the whole picture here.” Riddick pulled his hand away, his voice circling again to his side, and behind him, one of the hellhounds growled softly.

 

Sensing his immediate danger, Vaako chose his words carefully.  “Usually, when Necromongers pass through the Threshold, they return… holy.  Leaders.  But for all purposes of the word, they are dead, and not dead.  Their bodies become a vessel for pure power, gifted by the Threshold, in return for their mortal coil.  A permanent purification.”

 

“Oh, that.” Riddick said, unimpressed.  “What you lot call the Threshold is nothing like what you really think it is.  All of those people who came back from it before me failed its test, is all.  But it ain’t totally unreasonable, so in exchange for losing their souls, they get some perks.”

 

“A _test_?”

 

“And of course they can’t come back and tell everyone they failed, so they make up some mystical jumbo about coming back _holy_.” Riddick’s voice was now at the door, nonchalant as ever, as though he hadn’t just overturned centuries of Necromonger belief.  “Shall we?”

 

“A test to do _what_?”

 

“For what comes next.  And that, I’m not yet willing to say.  But we’re getting there.”

 

“ _Lord Marshal_ …”

 

“And for that, I need you to trust me on that.” Riddick was close again, warm breath against his ear, and Vaako inhaled sharply, hastily twisting away.  “All right?”

 

“ _You_ don’t trust _me_.”

 

“Tough, isn’t it.” Warm, callused pads pressed briefly and lightly over his neck, drifting down to brush teasingly over the purification marks.  Some months ago Riddick had found out during sparring that the marks were sensitive, and he hadn’t let Vaako forget it since.  The First among Commanders shivered, biting down on his lip.  “But it can change.”

 

“How?” The word was out before he could dress it more formally, and Riddick chuckled again, lower, rougher.

 

“When the hounds trust you, I will.”

 

IV

 

“What does your Dame think?” Riddick asked suddenly, in the Lord Marshal’s office, when the fleet captains had made their reports and had filed out, leaving Vaako alone in the dimmed chamber, a curved panel dotted with stars before him, glass overlooking the vastness of deep space.

 

“About what, sir?” Vaako asked, confused. 

 

The meeting hadn’t been about anything controversial, only a routine update about the cryo status of the fleet.  Thankfully, Riddick hadn’t been averse so far to pillaging planets for supplies.  Vaako supposed that he shouldn’t really have expected a convict like Riddick to have a sufficiency of human moral values to object to the process, or perhaps whatever Riddick had experienced behind the Threshold had him preoccupied with his newfound purpose. 

 

“Sometimes,” Riddick said conversationally, “You smell like you want to try to kill me.”

 

“You _can_ be occasionally trying, Lord Marshal.” Long association had taught Vaako that Riddick found verbal insubordination amusing, at least: the Lord Marshal smirked.  “She has not entertained any thoughts of your demise, if that is what concerns you-”

 

“And then sometimes,” Riddick interrupted, “You smell like a bitch in heat.”

 

Vaako blinked rapidly, then shock settled into anger.  Ever since Riddick had decided to make purification optional, Vaako had to admit that his battle instincts had sharpened, but his emotions were growing edged.  “ _Lord Marshal_ …”

 

“Like now.” Riddick was abruptly behind him, twisting his arm behind his back before he could turn, then rubbing a big palm deliberately over his breeches, making him gasp and jerk.  Teeth rasped lightly over his ear, then clamped over a purification mark, and Vaako twisted with a pitchy yelp, pleasure arcing down every nerve in a liquid spark.

 

He could feel the Lord Marshal smirk – again – against his skin.  “I’ve thought of fucking you over that desk,” Riddick said blandly, rolling his hips firmly against Vaako’s rump, making him hiss at the feeling of the Lord Marshal’s growing arousal pushing against his cleft.  “‘Course,” he added, as Vaako sucked in a harsh, shuddering breath, “It ain’t an order.  So if your missus-”

 

“What I do, _Lord Marshal_ , I do for myself,” Vaako growled, bucking his hips back to grind pointedly against Riddick.  “I haven’t hidden the fact that I’ve wanted you for a while.  _But_ ,” he grabbed Riddick’s wrist as it tucked a thumb into his belt, jerking it away, “You haven’t convinced me that _you’re_ worth cheating on my Dame over.”

 

It was a long shot, to try and play the Lord Marshal’s pride off against his healthy sense of caution, but it seemed that Selune’s instincts were correct yet again; instead of making some snide remark and pulling away as he usually did, Riddick began to laugh, velvet and deep, pressed up against him, and long fingers went back to his belt; Vaako shivered as the hellhounds churred and circled them, sinuous, scaly tails winding over his thighs.  “How about I go about convincing you?”

 

“Must the hounds really be here?” The creatures still hadn’t fully taken to him yet, but as Selune had surmised, Riddick’s bed and Riddick’s confidence were two ‘privileges’ that would just as likely be separate and distinct.

 

“If you’re gonna share my bed, Vaako,” Riddick squeezed, roughly enough for Vaako to moan and push into the pressure, “You’re gonna have to get used to them.”

 

V

 

Even after he became a fairly regular visitor of his Lord Marshal’s bed, it took some time, a few false starts, and some careful coaching from Selune (woman’s intuition); stupidly, it felt somehow _gratifying_ when the large head of the big male bumped its skull under Vaako’s palm, then raised its jaw beneath his fingers, urging him to scratch under, over the scales of the base of its throat.  As it rumbled into a deep purr, Riddick snorted, in the general direction of his wardrobe.

 

“Knew you could do it.”

 

“I don’t like being tested,” Vaako said, as the small female whined and rubbed against his knees, then slipped away as the big male huffed reproachfully at her.  “I want to know what you intend to do with us all.”

 

“Do you trust me to tell the truth?”

 

“Let me decide, sir.” Vaako worked his fingers higher, and the big male began to churr, pleased. 

 

“All right.” Leather snapped as Riddick put on a belt.  “I’ll try to explain.  But I ain’t one for words, so don’t blame me if it don’t sound right.  There’s someone – or something – behind the Threshold.  Feels like they’ve been there a long time, when the universe was just getting started.  Sometimes they give things a little tweak to keep the ball rolling.  With me so far?”

 

“That’s… one theory in Necromonger thought,” Vaako allowed.  “The presence of God or Gods.”

 

“It ain’t really like that.  Something’s coming.  Could be in a few decades, could be in a hundred years.  Something that will grow stronger with each soul that it eats.  There’s two ways to stop it.”

 

“Burn all or as much life as possible from the universe,” Vaako said slowly.  “Hope that it starves to death.”

 

“Right.  And two, there’s a trigger, in a pocket of the outermost rim of deep space, that’d make it turn to some other plane of existence where it could do less damage.” Riddick’s voice was closer again, and near his feet, the scarred female yawned.  “But it needs the right person as a key.”

 

“And you’re that person,” Vaako tried not to sound _too_ disbelieving.

 

“Maybe.” He could hear the shrug in Riddick’s voice.  “I ain’t so sure yet that I want to go to all that trouble.  But it ain’t like I have anything else for us to do, and I’m a little bit curious about what this trigger might be.  So that’s where we’re at.  Happy?”

 

“No!” Vaako’s hands were curled into tight fists.  Faced with Riddick’s casual elaboration, he didn’t know _what_ to think.  Didn’t know how to react.  Discipline ordered him to obey the Lord Marshal, as he had always, until he was succeeded, by either Vaako himself or another; but all of the rest of him that was a Necromonger recoiled from the sheer heresy of the revelation. 

 

And yet… the words _sounded_ right.  As much as Riddick seemed disdainful of his apparent destiny, the Threshold _had_ imbued the drifter-outlaw with an obvious sense of purpose.  Before, Vaako had simply thought that no different from any of Riddick’s other predecessors.

 

“Tough.” A braid was curled briefly around thumb and forefinger, hard enough to sting, but as Vaako twisted, with a low snarl, Riddick was again at the door.  “Let’s go.  I think I have some counselors to terrorize.” 

 

“What’s stopping me from telling the others?”

 

“Would you?” Riddick’s question was blunt.

 

Irritated at the presumption, Vaako bared his teeth, about to make a snappish remark, then stumbled as the small female bumped against his knee, her scaly sides vibrating in a deep purr.  Awkwardly, he swallowed his retort.  “I’m not one of your pets.”

 

“They ain’t my pets.”  Riddick said simply.  “And neither would you be.” Warm fingers splayed over his spine, and despite himself, Vaako relaxed against them; the medium male with the missing ear bumped its forehead against his fist, and a tongue rasped over the edge of his boot.

 

-fin… abit disjointed, but I hope the prompter likes O_o!-

  



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